POEMS

For Halloween 2015, my poem inspired by the novella of Dublin-born Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu (1814-73), the leading ghost-story writer of the 19th century. As an early work of vampire fiction, Carmilla predated Dracula, by Bram Stoker (1847-1912, and also born in Dublin) by more than a quarter of a century.

Carmilla

The cold casement glass casts her face upon the moon,

drains the sea of rainbows empty on her brow.

A child of broken hearts and opened veins,

frozen with crazy anger,

longs to be reborn but first must destroy a world,

harden the stay of youth. A bitter lamp burns

over the maze of her mother’s garden

where shreds of shame still cling fast.

Only the darkness discovers her pale beauty,

plight in her ghostly grace. Her frail figure melts

into the flickering wan candlelight,

betraying the stifled bride,

wantonly disguised in a secret shroud of dreams.

Sheets bloodstained and tattered. Claws to rend the tomb,

she aches from muddled maps of icy streets

and heavy aged faces.

Skin slips and crawls, she parts her lips for the long kiss

in the red arena, her sister lover

stricken, her soul brittle as a cinder.

Their embrace deepens the night.

* 'Carmilla' by David Henry Friston (1872). English Wikipedia, licensed under Public Domain via Commons.

Here's another of a number of poems I've written since publication of A Raft of Dreams in April, 2015. It's included in the 'Poetry for Ukraine' anthology published by 'The Poet' magazine in 2022 in aid of the Ukraine Relief Fund and featuring more than 250 poets from 53 countries.

I might go barefoot on the receiving earth

wash in the waters of the spangled sun-lake

fill my eyes with the sky at dawn and sunset

sail with the mandrake moon on a tide of stars

I might sit among the rocks and watch the sea

listen well as the breeze whispers its secrets

dream on clouds that cluster to the mountain peak

tend a winter hearth for my lover’s return

I might speak of spirit with the ancient stones

chase the headlong streams from crag to tumbling shore

sigh with the listless leaves of moody autumn

revel in the raindrop that begirds the storm

And even if my heart might slow relentless time

still I must share the burden of sorrowful souls

* Sunset on Coulagh Bay, Beara. Photo: Geoff Ward